Things went on in this way till nearly the end of July, when the parks
were brown like heather, and a great many people already had gone out of
town. Those who remained kept up their gaieties with a sort of
desperation of energy, intent upon getting as much as possible out of
the limited time. And what with the drawing closer of the bonds of
society, and the additional fervour of the pace at which everything went
on, Walter spent almost his entire time in Katie's society, meeting her
everywhere, and being, by universal consent, constituted her partner and
escort wherever they did meet. She had half begun to wonder herself that
nothing further came of it, and that he did not speak the words which
would settle every question, so far at least as he was concerned. Miss
Williamson, for her own part, reserved her personal freedom. She would
not say even to herself that she had finally made up her mind. She would
see what he had to say for himself, and then----But Katie was very
prudent, and would not be premature. Walter, too, rather wondered at
himself that he did nothing conclusive. He perceived for the first time
in his life that the position was not one which could be glided over,
which he could terminate simply by going away. He had come to that, that
Katie must cut the knot, not he: or else, which was most likely, bind it
closer. She was a girl of whom nobody could think lightly--not a good
girl only, but a little personage of distinct importance. No doubt she
would make such a wife as a man might be very well satisfied with, and
even proud of in his way. She was even pretty--enough: she was clever,
and very well able to hold her own. At the head of a table, at the head
of a great house, Katie, though with in every way a pronounced yet not
unrefined Scotch accent (as indeed in the wife of a Scotch lord was very
appropriate), would be quite equal to the position. And peace would come
with her: no young man could do more for his family than bring such an
accession of fortune into it. It would probably save him from further
vexation about small matters of the estate, and those persecutions about
leases and investments to which he was now subject. This had been the
one drawback of his life since he had known Katie. He had been asked to
decide on one side and another: he had concluded against Peter Thomson
the sheep farmer, in sheer vexation with Shaw's importunity. He had
thought more than once that he saw old Milnathort shake his head, and
was subject to the factor's outspoken blame. But if he brought Katie
into the family, what would it matter about these small things? One or
two unsatisfactory tenants would be little in comparison with that large
addition of fortune. And he liked Katie. In herself she was very
agreeable to him--a companion whom he by no means wished to lose. There
was something in her independence, her almost boyishness, her
philosophies and questionings, which made her unlike any other girl with
whom he had ever been brought into contact. The thing was not that they
were in love with each other, but that they could get on quite well
together. Notwithstanding, Walter, being quite content with the
circumstances as they were, took no new step, but let the course of
events run on day by day.
They had gone together to one of the last celebrations of the waning
season--the evening reception at the Royal Academy. Everybody who was in
town was there; and Walter, who had now an abundance of acquaintances,
went from one group to another, paying his respects to the ladies, but
always keeping somewhere within reach of the Williamsons, with whom he
had come. Katie expected him to be within reach. It had come to be a
habit with her to look round for Lord Erradeen, to beg him to get her
what she wanted, to take her to this or that. Her father, though always
most dutiful in attendance, yet naturally found persons of his own age
to talk with; and he was apt to say foolish things about the pictures,
and say them at the top of his voice, which made Katie cautious not to
direct his attention to them more than was necessary; but Walter, who
on the whole considered her something of an authority on art, and was
not unwilling to accept her guidance to some extent, was here a very
agreeable companion. She had just intimated to him her desire to look at
something of which the artist had been speaking to her--for Katie
considered it her duty even in presence of society to show a certain
regard for the pictures, as the supposed object of the meeting--and
taking his arm, was going on to the corner indicated, when somebody all
at once made a little movement towards them with a quick exclamation of
pleasure, and saying, "Walter!" suddenly laid a finger upon Lord
Erradeen's unoccupied arm.
This sudden incident produced a curious dramatic effect amid the many
groups of this elegant company. Some of the bystanders even were
attracted, and one enterprising young painter took in his mind's eye an
instantaneous sketch of the three figures enacting a scene in the
genteel comedy of life. Walter in the midst, startled, looking a little
guilty, yet not losing his composure, replied readily enough, "Julia!"
holding out his hand to the somewhat eager stranger, who leaned forward
towards him with sparkling eyes, and the most arch and smiling
expression of pleasure and interest. Katie, on the other hand, held back
a little, and looked very gravely at the meeting, with a manifest
absence in her countenance of that pleasure which the others expressed,
whether they felt it or not. She did not withdraw from Walter's arm, or
separate herself in any way, but gazed at the new-comer who addressed
him so familiarly with a look of grave inspection. Katie meant to look
dignified, and as a girl should look who was the lawful possessor of the
attention to which an illegitimate claimant had thus appeared; but her
figure was not adapted for expressing dignity. She was shorter than
Julia, and less imposing, and her _beauté du diable_ could not bear
comparison with Miss Herbert's really fine features and charming figure.
Julia was as much, or indeed more, a country girl than the other; but
she was much handsomer, and had all the instincts of society. Her face
was radiant with smiles as she gave her hand to Walter, and
half-permitted, half-compelled him to hold it a moment longer than was
necessary in his.
"I thought we could not be long of meeting," she said, "and that you
were sure to be here. I am with my cousins the Tom Herberts. I suppose
you know them? They have asked me up for the fag-end of the season. I
always told you my season was the very end--and the result is, I am
quite fresh when you jaded revellers have had too much of it, and are
eager to hurry away."
And indeed she looked fresh, glowing, and eager, and full of life and
pleasure; her vivid looks seemed to take the colour out of Katie, who
still stood with her hand upon Walter's arm. For his part he did not
know what to do.
"You would not think, to look round these rooms, that it was the fag-end
of the season," he said.
"Ah! that's your usual benevolence to make me think less of my
disadvantages," said Julia. "You know I don't encourage illusions on
that subject. You must come and see me. You must be made acquainted with
my cousins, if you don't know them."
"In the mean time, Lord Erradeen, will you take me to my father,
please," said Katie, on his arm.
"Oh," cried Julia, "don't let me detain you now. We have just come.
You'll find me presently, Walter, when you are at liberty. No, go, go,
we shall have plenty of time afterwards for our talks. I insist upon
your going now."
And she dismissed him with a beaming smile, with a little pat on his arm
as if it had been she who was his lawful proprietor, not Katie. Miss
Williamson said nothing for the moment, but she resisted Walter's
attempt to direct her towards the picture she had meant to visit. "I
think I will go to papa," she said. "I must not detain you, Lord
Erradeen, from your--friend."
"That doesn't matter," said Walter; "I shall see her again. Let us do
what we intended to do. What is the etiquette on such an occasion, Miss
Williamson? Would it be correct for me, a mere man, to introduce two
ladies to each other? You know I am a novice in society. I look for
instruction to you."
"I can't tell, I am sure," said Katie. "I don't think the case has
occurred to me before. You seem to know the lady very well, Lord
Erradeen?"
"I have known her almost all my life," Walter replied, not quite at his
ease. "We have played together, I suppose. She comes from Sloebury where
my mother is living. They have all sorts of fine connections, but they
are poor, as you would divine from what she said."
"I did not listen to what she said. Conversation not addressed to one's
self," said Katie with some severity, "one has nothing to do with. I
could see of course that you were on the most friendly terms."
"Oh, on quite friendly terms," said Walter; he could not for his life
have prevented a little laugh from escaping him, a laugh of
consciousness and amusement and embarrassment. And Katie, who was full
of suspicion, pricked up her little ears.
"I should have said on terms that were more than friendly," she said in
a voice that was not without a certain sharp tone.
Walter laughed again with that imbecility to which all men are subject
when pressed upon such a question.
"Can anything be better than friendly?" he said. "Poor Julia! she has a
very kind heart. Was not this the picture you wanted to see?"
"Oh," cried Katie, "I have forgotten all about the picture! This little
incident has put it out of my head. Human interest is superior to art.
Perhaps if you had not left Sloebury, if your circumstances had not
changed, your friendship might have changed into--something warmer, as
people say."
"Who can tell?" cried Walter in his vanity; "but in that case we should
have been two poverties together, and that you know would never do."
"I am no judge," cried Katie; "but at all events you are not a poverty
now, and there is no reason--Oh, there is papa; he is talking to _that_
ambassador--but never mind. Patience for another minute, Lord Erradeen,
till we can make our way to him, and then you shall go."
"But I don't want to go," Walter said.
"Oh, that is impossible; when Miss--Julia--I am sure I beg your pardon,
for I don't know her other name--was so kind as to tell you where to
find her. You must want to get rid of me. Papa, give me your arm; I want
to show you something."
"Eh! what do you want to show me, Katie? I'm no judge, you know. You
will find it very much better, I'm confident, to show it to young
Erradeen."
"Thank you, Lord Erradeen," said Katie, making him a curtsey. She took
her father's almost reluctant arm, and turned him suddenly away at once
from his ambassador, and from Walter, who stood astonished to find
himself thus thrown off. "Look here, papa, it is in this direction," the
young lady said.
Mr. Williamson's voice was rather louder than good manners allowed.
"What! is it a tiff?" he said, with a laugh. "That's according to all
the rules, Katie. I'm astonished you have not had one before."
Walter heard this speech as well as Katie, and it threw the last gleam
of reality on the position in which he stood. That he was looked upon by
her father as her lover, and no doubt by herself too, or what would the
encounter with Julia have mattered to her, was plain enough. He had
known it vaguely before, but only from his own side of the question, and
had debated it as a matter of expediency to himself. But when he saw it
from the other side, recognising with a shock that they too had
something to say in the matter, and coming right up against that barrier
of a _must_, which was so obnoxious to his character, everything took a
very different aspect. And Julia, too, had assumed an air of
property--had made a certain claim of right in respect to him. What! was
he to be made a slave, and deprived of free action in respect to the
most important act of his life, because he had freely accepted
invitations that were pressed upon him? The thing was ridiculous, he
said to himself, with some heat. It might be well for him to offer
himself to Katie, but to have a virtual demand made upon him, and
acknowledge a necessity, that was not to be borne. Still less was he
likely to acknowledge any right on the part of Julia Herbert. In her
case he was altogether without responsibility, he said to himself; and
even in the other, was it a natural consequence of Mr. Williamson's
perpetual invitations and hospitality that he should put himself at the
disposal of Mr. Williamson's daughter? He seemed to hear that worthy's
laugh pealing after him as he took his way hastily in the opposite
direction to that in which he had met Julia, with a determination to
yield to neither. "A tiff!" and, "according to all the rules?" A lovers'
quarrel, that was what the man meant; and who was he that he should
venture to assume that Lord Erradeen was his daughter's lover?
Walter hurried through the rooms in the opposite direction, till he got
near the great staircase, with its carpeted avenue, between the hedges
of flowers, and the group of smiling, bowing, picturesque Academicians
in every variety of beard, still receiving the late, and speeding the
parting guests. But fate was too much here for the angry young man.
Before he had reached the point of exit, he felt once more that tap on
his arm. "Walter! I believe he is running away," said a voice, close to
him; and there was Julia, radiant, with her natural protectors beside
her, making notes of all that passed.
This time he could not escape. He was introduced to Lady Herbert and Sir
Thomas before he could move a step from amid that brilliant crowd. Then
Julia, like Katie, declared that she had something she wished to show
him, and led him--half-reluctant, half, in the revulsion of feeling,
pleased, to have some one else to turn to--triumphantly away.
Sir Thomas, who was tired, protested audibly against being detained; but
his wife, more wise, caught him by the arm, and imposed patience.
"Can't you see!" she cried in his ear, "what a chance it is for
Julia--Lord Erradeen, a most eligible young man. And think the anxiety
she is, and that one never can be sure what she may do." "She is a
horrid little coquette; and you may be sure the man means nothing
serious, unless he is a fool!" growled Sir Thomas. But his wife replied
calmly, "Most men are fools; and she is not a bad-hearted creature,
though she must have some one dangling after her. Don't let us interfere
with her chance, poor thing. I shall ask him to dinner," Lady Herbert
said. And Sir Thomas, though he was rather a tyrant at home, and hated
late hours, was kept kicking his heels in the vestibule, snarling at
everybody who attempted to approach, for nearly an hour by the clock. So
far, even in the most worldly bosoms, do conscientious benevolence and
family affection go.
"Come, quick!" said Julia, "out of hearing of Maria. She wants to hear
everything; and I have so many things to ask you. Is it all settled?
That was She, of course. How we used to laugh about Miss Williamson! But
I knew all the time it would come true. Of course that was _she_," Julia
said, leaning closely upon his arm and looking up into his face.
"I don't know what you mean by _she_. It is Miss Williamson, certainly,"
he said.
"I was sure of it! She is not so pretty as I should have expected from
your good taste. But why should she be pretty? She has so many other
charms. Indeed, now that I think of it, it would have been mean of her
to be pretty--and is it all settled?" Julia said.
She looked at him with eyes half laughing, half reproachful, full of
provocation. She was as a matter of fact slightly alarmed, but not half
so much as she said.
"I am not aware what there is to settle. We are country neighbours, and
I meet them frequently--they go everywhere."
"Ah! so are we country neighbours, _amis d'enfance_: but I don't go
everywhere, Lord Erradeen. Yes, I called you Walter; that was for a
purpose, to pique her curiosity, to make her ask who was that forward
horrid girl. Did she? I hope she was piqued."
"I heard nothing about any forward, horrid girl. She is not that sort of
person. But I prefer to hear about yourself rather than to discuss Miss
Williamson. When did you come? and where are you? What a pity," Walter
said hypocritically, "that you come so late."
"Ah, isn't it? but what then? We are too poor to think of the season.
This is what one's fine friends always do. They ask us for the last
week, when everything is stifled in dust--when all you revellers are
dead tired and want nothing so much as to go away--then is the moment
for poor relations. But mind that you come to Bruton Street," Julia
said. "It gives me consequence. They are not very much in society, and a
title always tells."
"You do not leave any ground for my vanity. I am not to suppose that I
am asked for any other reason."
Julia pressed his arm a little with her fingers. She sighed and gave him
a look full of meaning.
"The Tom Herberts will think a great deal of you," she said; "they will
instantly ask you to dinner. As for me--what am I that I should express
any feeling? We are country neighbours, as you were saying. But enough
of me. Let us return to our--lamb," cried Julia. "Tell me, have you seen
a great deal of her? How little I thought when we used to laugh about
Miss Williamson that it would come true."
"It has come true, as it began, in your imagination," said Walter,
provoked, and thinking the reiteration vulgar. He was aware that a great
many people who knew him were remarking the air with which this new
young lady hung upon his arm. They were not equal in this respect. She
had few acquaintances, and did not care, nay, would have been pleased
that she should be remarked; whereas he began to throb with impatience
and eager desire to get away from the comment he foresaw, and from the
situation altogether. Julia was very pretty, more pretty and sparkling
in the pleasure of having met and secured him thus at the very outset of
her too-short and too-late campaign in town, than he had ever known her,
and there was nothing that was objectionable in her dress. The Tom
Herberts were people against whom nothing could be said. And yet Lord
Erradeen, himself not much more than a novice, felt that to everybody
whom they met, Julia would be truly a country neighbour, a girl whom no
one knew, and whose object, to secure a recreant lover, would be jumped
at by many fine observant eyes. There was no return of tenderness in his
sentiments towards her. Indeed there had been no tenderness in his
sentiments at any time he said to himself with some indignation, which
made it all the more hard that he should thus be exhibited as her
captive before the eyes of assembled London now. But notwithstanding his
impatience he could not extricate himself from Julia's toils. When after
various little pretences of going to see certain pictures, which she
never looked at, she suffered him to take her back to her friends, Lady
Herbert showed herself most gracious to the young man. She begged that
as Julia and he were, as she heard, very old friends, he would come to
Bruton Street whenever it suited him. Would he dine there to-morrow,
next day? It would give Sir Thomas and herself the greatest pleasure.
Dear Julia, unfortunately, had come to town so late: there was scarcely
anything going on to make it worth her while: and it would be so great a
pleasure to her to see something of her old friend. Julia gave him
little looks of satirical comment aside while her cousin made these
little speeches, and whispers still more emphatic as he accompanied her
down-stairs in the train of the Herberts, who were too happy to get away
after waiting an hour for the young lady. "Don't you think it is
beautiful to see how concerned she is for my pleasure; and so sorry that
I have come so late! The truth is that she is delighted to make your
acquaintance. But come, do come, all the same," she said, her cheek
almost touching Walter's shoulder as she looked up in his face.
Need it be doubted that, with the usual malign disposition of affairs at
such a crisis, the Williamsons' carriage drew up behind that of the
Herberts, and that Walter had to encounter the astonished gaze of good
Mr. Williamson, and the amused but not very friendly look of Katie, as
he appeared in this very intimate conjunction? Julia's face so full of
delighted and affectionate dependence raised towards him, and his own
head stooped towards her to hear what she was saying. He scarcely could
turn aside now to give them one deprecating glance, praying for a
suspension of judgment. When he had put Julia into her cousin's
carriage, and responded as best he could to the "Now remember
to-morrow!" which she called to him from the window, he was just in time
to see Mr. Williamson's honest countenance, with a most puzzled aspect,
directed to him from the window of the next carriage as the footman
closed the door. The good man waved his hand by way of good-night, but
his look was perplexed and uncomfortable. Walter stood behind on the
steps of Burlington House amid all the shouts of the servants and clang
of the hoofs and carriages, himself too much bewildered to know what he
was doing. After a while he returned to get his coat, and walked home
with the sense of having woke out of a most unpleasant dream, which
somehow was true.
As for Katie, she drove home without a remark, while her father talked
and wondered, and feared lest they had been "ill bred" to Lord Erradeen.
"He came with us, and he would naturally calculate on coming home with
us," the good man said. But Katie took no notice. She was "a wilful
monkey" as he had often said, and sometimes it would happen to her like
this, to take her own way. When they reached the hotel, Captain
Underwood, of all people in the world, was standing in the hall with the
sleepy waiter who had waited up for them. "I thought perhaps Erradeen
might be with you," the captain said apologetically. Katie, who on
ordinary occasions could not endure him, made some gracious reply, and
asked him to come in with the most unusual condescension though it was
so late. "Lord Erradeen is not with us," she said. "He found some
friends, people just newly come to town, so far as I could judge, a Miss
Julia--I did not catch her name--somebody from Sloebury."
"Oh!" said Underwood, excited by his good fortune, "Julia Herbert. Poor
Erradeen! just when he wanted to be with you! Well that's hard; but
perhaps he deserved it."
"What did he deserve? I supposed," said Katie, "from the way they
talked, that they were old friends."
Underwood did not in his heart wish to injure Walter--rather the other
way; he wanted him to marry Katie, whose wealth was dazzling even to
think of. But Walter had not behaved well to him, and he could not
resist the temptation of revenging himself, especially as he was aware,
like all the rest, that a lovers' quarrel is a necessary incident in a
courtship. He smiled accordingly and said, "I know: they are such old
friends that the lady perhaps has some reason to think that Erradeen had
used her rather badly. He is that kind of a fellow you know: he must
always have some one to amuse himself with. He used to be dangling after
her to no end, singing duets, and that sort of thing. Sloebury is the
dullest place in creation--there was nothing else to do."
Katie made very little demonstration. She pressed her lips tightly
together for a moment and then she said, "You see, papa, it was not
ill-bred, but the most polite thing you could have done to leave Lord
Erradeen. Good-night, Captain Underwood." And she swept out of the room
with her candle, her silken train rustling after her, as though it was
too full of indignation with the world. Her father stood somewhat
blankly gazing after her. He turned to the other with a plaintive look
when she was gone.
"Man," said Mr. Williamson, "I would not have said that. Don't you see
there is a tiff, a kind of a coolness, and it is just making matters
worse? Will you take anything? No? Well, it is late, as you say, and I
will bid you good-night."
It was thus that the effect produced by Julia's appearance was made
decisive. Walter for his part, walking slowly along in the depth of the
night towards his rooms, was in the most curiously complicated state of
feeling. He was angry and indignant both at Miss Herbert's encounter,
and the assumption on the part of the Williamsons that it was to them
that his attention belonged; and he was disturbed and uneasy at the
interruption of that very smooth stream which was not indeed true love,
but yet was gliding on to a similar consummation. These were his
sentiments on the surface; but underneath other feelings found play. The
sense that one neutralised the other, and that he was in the position of
having suddenly recovered his freedom, filled his mind with secret
elation. After he had expended a good deal of irritated feeling upon the
girl whom he felt to be pursuing him, and her whom he pursued, there
suddenly came before his eyes a vision, soft, and fresh, and cool, which
came like the sweet Highland air in his face, as he went along the hot
London street--Oona standing on the beach, looking out from her isle
upon the departing guest. What right had he to think of Oona? What was
there in that dilemma to suggest to him a being so much above it, a
creature so frank yet proud, who never could have entered into any such
competition? But he was made up of contradictions, and this was how it
befell. The streets were still hot and breathless after the beating of
the sun all day upon the unshaded pavements and close lines of houses.
It was sweet to feel in imagination the ripple of the mountain air, the
coolness of the woods and water. But it was only in imagination. Oona
with her wistful sweet eyes was as far off from him, as far off as
heaven itself. And in the mean time he had a sufficiently difficult
imbroglio of affairs on hand.
Next morning Lord Erradeen had made up his mind. He had passed a
disturbed and uneasy night. There was no longer any possibility of
delay. Oona, after all, was but a vision. Two or three days--what was
that to fix the colour of a life? He would always remember, always be
grateful to her. She had come to his succour in the most terrible
moment. But when he rose from his uneasy sleep, there was in him a
hurrying impulsion which he seemed unable to resist. Something that was
not his own will urged and hastened him. Since he had known Katie all
had gone well. He would put it, he thought, beyond his own power to
change, he would go to her that very morning and make his peace and
decide his life. That she might refuse him did not occur to Walter. He
had a kind of desire to hurry to the hotel before breakfast, which would
have been indecorous and ridiculous, to get it over. Indeed, so strong
was the impulse in him to do this, that he had actually got his hat and
found himself in the street, breakfastless, before it occurred to him
how absurd it was. He returned after this and went through the usual
morning routine, though always with a certain breathless sense of
something that hurried him on. As soon as he thought it becoming, he set
out with a half-solemn feeling of self-renunciation, almost of
sacrifice. If 'twere done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done
quickly. This was not a very lover-like frame of mind. He felt that he
was giving up everything that was visionary, the poetry of vague ideals,
and even more, the inspiration of that face, the touch of that hand
which had been as soft as snow. Katie's hand was a very firm and true
one. It would give him an honest help in the world; and with her by his
side the other kind of aid, he said to himself, would be unnecessary. No
conflict with the powers of darkness would be forced upon him. His
heated imagination adopted these words in haste, and did not pause to
reflect how exaggerated and ridiculous they would sound to any
reasonable ear.
He found Mr. Williamson alone in the room where Katie was usually ready
to receive him in her fresh morning toilette and smile of welcome. The
good man wore a puzzled look, and was looking over his bill with his
cheque-book beside him on the table. He looked up when Lord Erradeen
came in, with a countenance full of summings up.
"Yes," he said, "I am just settling everything, which is never very
pleasant. You need to be made of money when you come to London. Katie is
away this morning by skreigh of day. Oh, yes, it was a very sudden
resolution. She just took it into her little head. And here am I left to
pay everything, and follow as soon as I can. It is breaking up our
pleasant party. But what am I to do? I tell her she rules me with a rod
of iron. I hope we'll see a great deal of you in autumn, when you come
to Auchnasheen."
Walter went back to his rooms with a fire of resentment in his veins,
but yet a sense of exhilaration quite boyish and ridiculous. Whatever
might happen, he was free. And now what was to be his next step? To play
with fire and Julia, or to take himself out of harm's way? He almost ran
against Underwood as he debated this question, hurrying towards his own
door.